A Little Less Sixteen Candles
by SquishyCool
Summary: Based on the Fall Out Boy song, "A Little Less Sixteen Candles, A Little More 'Touch Me'". Sam is turning 16, and she and Freddie have fallen for each other, but can he get her to admit that and stay honest, or is he too late? Seddie.


**A/N: **IMPORTANT! - This is based on the song "A Little Less Sixteen Candles, A Little More 'Touch Me'" by Fall Out Boy; if you haven't heard it, you should definitely give it a listen, because it sets the mood pretty nicely for this story, in my opinion. It's also an awesome song all-around, and so is the video for it. It just _had_ to be made into a Seddie. **The paragraphs in italics are the lyrics (as usual). **This also takes place sometime around April of this year, so Freddie and Carly are freshly 15 and Sam is turning 16 (meaning they're only a few months older than the show currently portrays them). This is in Freddie's POV as if he's telling Sam what happened.  
I'm not gonna lie: this story is kinda weird. I'm not sure where I was planning on going with it, and I'm not completely sure where I ended up either. All I know is that it's my first Seddie-centric songfic, and you should be proud of that fact alone. It took me probably a month or two to think up the plot and then write it out, but even when I wrote it out, the plot wasn't fully developed in my head, so I really just connected the dots. I also wrote part of it while I was still high, so it was kinda out there, but somehow I brought it back down to earth  
Anyhow, I'm not extremely proud of this, but I do like how it turned out. Please let me know what you honestly think of it, love it or hate it. I'm sure there will be more Seddie from me in the future (eventually)!  
**Disclaimer: **I do not own _iCarly_, nor am I associated in any way with Nickelodeon or Dan Schneider. The song and lyrics to "A Little Less Sixteen Candles, A Little More 'Touch Me'" belong solely to Fall Out Boy; only the plot of this belongs to me.

* * *

**A Little Less Sixteen Candles,  
A Little More "Touch Me"  
**

_I confess, I messed up  
Dropping "I'm sorry" like you're still around  
And I know, you dressed up  
"Hey kid, you'll never live this down"_

I knew I'd messed up. I knew you'd liked me, and I knew I'd liked you, and I even knew you had trusted me… and I messed up. I didn't have anyone to blame but myself. I knew that once you screwed Sam Puckett over, you could pretty much consider yourself done for.

I knew I was done for.

Yet I still managed to call you over and over, leave voicemail after voicemail, text after text. You didn't answer, but that was understandable. I beat myself up for a while, but I knew the whole time that this was something that should've been expected.

_'Cause you're just the girl all the boys wanna dance with  
And I'm just the boy who's had too many chances_

I'd had too many chances as it was. All the years of torture and the years of subtle hints and flirting… We shared our first kiss together, and you admitted your feelings to me not long after that, and I ignored it. I convinced myself I was "in love" with Carly.

Well, I wasn't.

When you had dated Jonah, I hadn't been that upset. Why should I care? But I couldn't deny it for much longer. I liked you, and I liked you a lot. All the things the 3 of us had been through had brought you and I closer together.

Now we were about to finish our freshman year and you were turning 16 and you had all these guys interested in you. I got really jealous. Seeing you actually go on dates and get all girly and dress up and wear more makeup than usual; seeing these guys bringing flowers and calling you and to see you leave the room to take a phone call from one of your dates… it was eating away at me.

I had to have you back. It was too much.

_I'm sleeping on your folk's porch again, dreaming  
She said, she said, she said,  
"Why don't you just drop dead?"_

I can't even believe I screwed up again. I hate myself, I swear. But I'm determined to make up for it, even though you're determined to be the stubborn Sam that you are and ignore me and all of my pleas for forgiveness.

I am _not_ going to lose you, and I am _not_ going to watch you go off to some other guy or however many other guys wanna date you this weekend or next weekend or whatever.

I spent all evening knocking on your door, and throwing pebbles up at your window. Your mom's gone to your grandparents' for the weekend, so it's just you in the house. But I try and try to get your attention and I know I've gotten it, you're just trying and trying to ignore me and get me to go away.

I'm not giving up that easy, though.

I literally knock on your front door for like, 3 hours straight, taking breaks every few minutes to go out into your driveway and pick up small pebbles and chuck them up at your window, listening to them bounce back. I watch your shadow moving around behind the curtain and I imagine you cursing my name and pressing "ignore" on your phone several times. I stopped calling your name out after the first hour; a neighbor came out and yelled at me to "shut the hell up or he'd call the cops".

I get tired after so many hours. I'm taking breaks here and there to rest on the steps of your front porch. At one point, I actually lie back and rest my head on the carpeted front porch, closing my eyes. My breathing steadies and soon, I'm actually asleep on your porch, tired from trying to get your attention all evening and nearly half the night.

I have a pleasant dream… it's not all clear, but something about standing in front of you and leaning in to kiss you, our lips just about to meet…

That's when I wake up to a sharp pain in my side, and I groan, rolling over to clutch it. I open my eyes drowsily and look up to see you standing over me, an angry glare on your face. I notice the position you're standing in and realize you kicked me in the side to wake me up.

"What the hell are you doing here, Fredward?" you ask viciously, pronouncing each word with punctuality.

I frown and sigh, sitting up and rubbing at the sore spot on my side. I turn around and look back up at you, still sitting on your porch step. "I've been trying to get your attention for hours – "

"Well obviously I don't wanna talk to you, why can't you just give up already?" you spat angrily.

I wince at your harsh tone. "Because, Sam… I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry I messed up again, and I just want you to forgive me… I don't wanna lose you to some other guy. I want you to be mine and to stay that way."

You narrow your eyes. "You should've thought of that before, then."

You turn around and march towards your front door, reaching out for the door handle. But I quickly stand up and reach towards you, grabbing your arm and spinning you back around to face me. "No! Listen to me, Sam."

I sighed, loosening up on your arm. You weren't putting up much of an effort to jerk your arm away, but when I loosened up, you did bring it back to your side pretty quickly. Your blue eyes burned into me, waiting for what I was going to say.

"I… I love you," I finally muttered.

Your eyes narrowed again. "Why don't you just _drop dead_?"

With that, you spun around and stormed back into your house before I could even fully absorb the harsh words you'd just spat at me.

_I don't blame you for being you  
But you can't blame me for hating it  
So say, what are you waiting for?  
Kiss her, kiss her!  
I set my clocks early 'cause I know I'm always late_

I remained on your porch for a couple more hours, even after your whole house had darkened and the light on your room had gone out, making your shadow disappear.

I wondered if, maybe… if I'd just kissed you instead of argued with you, maybe you would've forgiven me? Maybe we could've forgotten how crappy things were and how crappy you were being towards me.

But I had such bad timing.

What was I waiting for? We'd shared our first kiss together, yet I couldn't kiss you again to apologize? Maybe I was just afraid of being punched.

_Write me off, give up on me_  
'_Cause darling, what did you expect?  
I'm just off,  
__A lost cause,  
A long shot,  
Don't even take this bet_

You had always told me not to count on you. Over and over again you'd said something like, "No guarantees" or, "I'm not promising anything" and, my favorite, "Don't fall in love with me; I'll probably screw you over."

You claimed you were a long shot and a worthless bet; you claimed you weren't worth anyone's time. But I knew it wasn't true. I saw your value and your worth all along. All you needed was a little help. I could be that help! But you refused to let anyone assist you in any way.

You've always been Miss Independent Sam, the girl who's too tough to take advice and too smart to need help.

How can I blame you for being who you are, though? You've always been that way, for longer than I've known you, so why should that change now?

But you broke my heart over and over again… Every time, though, I kept coming back, and I kept waiting, and I kept holding out.

I kept thinking, _No, she'll come around. I just have to tough it out, because, one of these days, she'll come around._

I was always so bad at making the first move, or even the last move for that matter.

"What did you expect, babe?" you said to me every time I asked you why this was happening, why you were being this way and doing this to me.

I never had an answer. Because what _did_ I expect? A perfect little relationship with no flaws, no lies, no broken hearts?

That's impossible for Sam Puckett… Especially when you have me around to mess things up royally.

_You can make all the moves, you can aim all the spotlights  
Get all the sighs and the moans just right_

The days following the porch incident were lonely and nerve-wracking. I texted you once a day, trying harder than you'll probably ever realize to resist texting you every hour or every five minutes. You never replied. I didn't really expect you to, but I could hope.

I didn't call very often, but whenever I did, you would usually answer. I'm not sure why you'd answer phone calls more often than texts, but whatever.

Finally, about 3 nights after the porch incident, I called you. It rang and rang and rang, and finally…

"Hey, it's Sam. Leave a message and I'll call you back… if I feel like it."

I sighed and quickly ended the call. I didn't want to record my pitiful begging on your voicemail again for you to use against me any chance you got.

It wasn't right, though. Why hadn't you answered? Were you busy? Surely you'd see my missed call and call me back as soon as you could. It'd been days since you'd ignored my calls.

I waited all night… Not a single phone call.

The next day at school, I searched for you the second I entered the hallways. Of course you weren't there that early. So I went to my locker and waited, keeping an eye out, awaiting your arrival.

You finally entered the doors with 3 minutes to spare until the bell rang. You looked tired: there were dark bags under your eyes, and your hair was a little messier than it usually was, and you weren't wearing any make-up or layered clothes; it looked as if you'd just thrown on a shirt and some jeans and shoes and left. You yawned, heading to your locker sleepily, your feet dragging. You were obviously dead tired.

I rushed up to you. "Sam? Why didn't you answer your phone last night?"

You shoved some books into your locker before turning around, leaning on it. Your eyes stared at me from under droopy lids and you gave a smirk. "I was busy."

I furrowed my brow. "Busy with what? You couldn't even call me back?"

You sighed. "Listen, I was with somebody…"

My heart almost stopped… _Please say Carly, please say Carly, please say Carly._

"Wh-who?" I hesitated in asking, swallowing the lump in my throat and trying not to seem obsessive or something. I didn't want you to get annoyed and stop talking to me.

"Um… just a guy… from school," you answered hesitantly, already turned back around with your head half in the locker, digging around for some sort of food.

"Oh," was all I said.

I turned around and headed towards my classroom. I'd heard enough. I knew exactly what you were doing.

_I'm sleeping on your folk's porch again, dreaming  
She said, she said, she said,  
"Why don't you just drop dead?"_

Two days later, Friday, was your 16th birthday. Apparently, you were having a party at Carly's. No one invited me. I talked to Carly, and she danced around the subject, but then suddenly and awkwardly avoided it, as if she knew you'd be angry if she invited me or let me in on the party plans. I ended up hearing about the party from people at school.

For half the night Friday, I had to sit in my apartment and listen to the loud music and the bustling teenagers. I could hear your animated voice and your joking threats, some less joking than others. I could hear the laughter and the giggling and the yelling. Everyone was having fun at your Sweet Sixteen… except me.

True, you were a year older than everyone else in our class because of repeating 3rd grade, so there was mainly a bunch of freshmen at the party, but that didn't mean they didn't know how to have fun… and make it audible.

I got sick to my stomach from the thoughts I was having of you with other guys at the party, or even of you letting another guy walk you back home so you could have "alone time" with him. I knew you'd go home rather than stay at Carly's, because Spencer and Carly didn't allow that kind of stuff to happen at the loft. That was about the only reason you went home anymore.

Finally, sick of the noise and the nausea, I left my apartment. My mom had already gone to bed and I ended up sneaking out of my room and down the fire escape, where I took the back streets to your house.

The old, large house was dark, only one, dim light on in the living room, but I knew you'd probably end up there later. I was so tired of feeling like this.

I sat down on your porch, leaning against your front door, and waited for what seemed like forever - a few hours, at least.

I don't know how long I was sitting there before I closed my eyes and dozed off. I hadn't meant to – it was cold, and my eyes were starting to burn from the exposed air, so I closed them. But somehow I drifted off, and once again, I was rudely awakened by a sharp pain in my side.

_I don't blame you for being you  
But you can't blame me for hating it  
So say, what are you waiting for?  
Kiss her, kiss her!  
I set my clocks early 'cause I know I'm always late_

"Wake up, nerd!"

I opened my eyes and squinted against the harsh air, straining my neck to look up. A figure silhouetted against streetlights in the background met my eyes, then another figure came out from behind that one. I clutched at my side with one hand, trying to ease the sharp pain.

I balanced myself and stood up, brushing off my pants from sitting on the porch. My butt was numb from sitting in that position for so long, and my back was sore. My neck ached, and my eyes still burned. But after blinking numerous times, I realized the silhouetted figures were you… and some senior guy.

"Whadda hell're you doing here _again_, Freddork?" you questioned, your words slightly slurred.

You were drunk.

"I was waiting for you," I mumbled, narrowing my eyes at the guy beside you, who was very possibly much drunker than you.

You rolled your eyes, but then reached around me to open the front door. You shooed your friend inside, telling him to go upstairs and wait for you, before shutting the door and facing me properly, trying to focus your eyes on me.

"_What_ isth yer problem?" you questioned harshly.

"What's _my_ problem? What's _your_ problem?! Who is that, Sam? Some senior from school? Do you even _know_ him? Does _he_ even know _you_?" I started bombarding you with questions, my anger rising.

You rolled your eyes, clumsily crossing your arms in front of your chest and shifting your weight to one leg. "I-I don't sthink sthat's any o' yer business, Benthson."

Now it was my turn to roll my eyes. You sounded ridiculous. "You know what, no, maybe it's not any of my business… but God, Sam, I care about you. Why do you keep pushing me away like this? Why can't you just forgive me and give me another chance?"

You narrowed your eyes (probably trying to focus in on my face with your blurry vision). "I… told you, Benthson… Don't bet on me. Don't get yer hopes up. Don't… don't fall in love with me."

That was surprisingly clear for your apparent drunken state. My heart dropped as I watched you try to push past me, as if the conversation were over right there. I probably would've let you, too, but I was tired of this.

I grabbed your arm just as you reached for the door handle, spinning you around to look at me.

"I'm not giving up on you," I said flatly, our faces inches apart. "And I'm not going to blame you for being you…"

Then, without warning, I shut my eyes and closed the gap between our faces, my lips meeting yours.

You didn't pull back, you didn't fight… you didn't even try to push me away and take your arm out of my grasp. All you did was kiss back – long and hard.

_(always on, always on)  
You said you'd keep me honest  
(always on, always on)  
But I won't call you on it  
(always on, always on)_

I could taste the booze on your lips and smell the sweat on your skin, as well as the hint of the other guy's cologne. But I ignored those and focused on the sweet scent of your strawberry shampoo, and how soft your skin was under the pressure of my fingertips.

I pulled your body in closer to mine, holding you against me and deepening the kiss. You made a sound of satisfaction, then suddenly broke the liplock. You pulled your head back and opened your eyes, staring up at me with wide, questioning eyes, pupils still trying to focus on just one image.

"I'm falling for you," you whispered.

All I could do was smile. "That's why you don't want me around? That's why you're going off, fooling around with other guys and ignoring me?"

You shut your eyes and sighed, pulling back and away from me, finally pulling your arm free of my gentle grasp. You placed your hand on your forehead in frustration and shook your head, your blonde curls shivering with the movement.

"Freddie, I…"

I raised my eyebrows expectantly, waiting for more. You brought your hand down and looked straight at me, obviously forcing yourself to be sober enough to think clearly and make sense.

"I just don't believe you can… handle me," you managed to say. Your words were still weak and somewhat jumbled, but clearer and more serious than before. "You haven't been able to so far. You swore… you'd keep me honest, and you'd help me break all my… bad habits and make something _good_ of myself… What-what happened to that?"

My face softened in pity, remembering the things I'd promised and sworn when I'd begged you to give me a chance the first time around. It was true: I hadn't done much to keep those promises. But what was there to do? You were Sam Puckett, and there was no changing that.

Truth be told, I didn't _want_ to change that. You were just fine the way you were, and why should I try to change that? Why couldn't I just admire it and hold it in my hands?

I told you this. "Why should I change you? Maybe I like you just the way you are…"

Your face softened now, your blue eyes a little confused, but also sympathetic in a way. Then, with a wry smile, you mumbled, "I'm not gonna call you on it."

_I don't blame you for being you  
But you can't blame me for hating it  
So say, what are you waiting for?  
Kiss her, kiss her!  
I set my clocks early 'cause I know I'm always late_

I smiled and held my hand out to take yours, but you just looked at it, then looked at me. "You're… too late, though, Fredward."

I looked at you with confusion, slowly pulling my hand back to my side. "What d'you mean?"

"That guy upstairs… he's waiting for me," you explained, still stern.

I sighed. "C'mon, Sam… don't do this. I've fallen for you, okay? Can't we just… move on? I want you back. I want everything back the way it was. You can torture me everyday if you want. I just… I wanna be able to call you mine. I want you just as you are… right now…"

You shook your head defiantly. "No, Freddie, I – "

Something was screaming at me in my head this time, "_Kiss her, kiss her, kiss her, kiss her!_"

So, without hesitation, I interrupted the sentence I wasn't listening to by grabbing you around the waist and yanking you into me, then grabbing the back of your blonde head of curls and bringing it closer to me, pressing my lips against yours in frustration. You grunted in complaint at first, but after a few seconds, you didn't pull away.

Eventually, your arms made their way around my torso, and we were pressed against each other on your porch, kissing like never before.

When we finally broke apart for air, I opened my eyes and looked down at you, your face flushed and your blonde hair mussed. I smirked.

"Just listen," I whispered. "How about a little less of this _Sixteen Candles_ crap, and a little more something like… 'Touch Me'?"

You shook your head, chuckling, and mumbled, "I told you not to take this bet, Benson…"

Then you buried your head into my chest and I held you closer, still standing on your parents' front porch.

I was willing to take any bet that involved you.

_**I set my clocks early 'cause I know I'm always late**_

**end.**


End file.
